


He's Always Drunk!

by GayShipsSailing



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, One Shot, People seem to forget that Qrow is a teacher too, Qrow is always drunk, Reader is a substitute teacher, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 08:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayShipsSailing/pseuds/GayShipsSailing
Summary: As usual, Qrow has been drinking. As usual, he calls you to come pick him up. This time, you just can’t say no.





	He's Always Drunk!

**Author's Note:**

> One of my best friends asked for this one and another, but I’m still working on the other. For you, Bekah!

Your students file out of the classroom in huddled groups. They would be going to lunch now, and that gave you time to finish grading the stack of papers you’d found piled on the desk that morning. Signal Academy had called you in early this morning because, once again, Qrow Branwen had failed to show up. This wasn’t unusual, but it was getting annoying. 

Qrow was quite the character. You had met him once at a meeting. From a distance, you had admired him. His greying black hair, red eyes, and smirk had drawn you in. He must have felt you watching him, though, because he caught your eye and began heading your way. That was when it all hit you.

He had a shadow of stubble along his jaw and the odor of strong alcohol wafted from his skin. His clothes were torn in places, stained in other. That was when he introduced himself as the lowlife who had skipped out on his own class so many times, forcing you to take his place. You gave your own short introduction before excusing yourself. As you joined another small group of teachers, you could have sworn you heard him laugh behind you.

You couldn’t help wondering why they kept him around. The headmaster assured you that he wasn’t always like this, and he was one of the best instructors at Signal. But, from what you had seen, he was unorganized and incompetent, unfit to be a teacher. You settle into his chair, searching through the cluttered desk for a pen. Eventually, you get your own from your purse.

You haven’t even started on the first question when your Scroll alerts you to a message. You grab the device from the corner of the desk and check who it’s from. You don’t recognize the sender, so you call them back. A deep, gruff voice responds. 

“Is this (y/n)?” it asks.

“Yes,” you answer, somewhat hesitantly. You can’t place the voice right away.

“Well, I’ve got an inebriated customer down here who says you can come pick him up.” You groan and fall back against the chair. This wasn’t the first time Qrow had done this. You know the voice now as a bartender at the local dive. In the past, you had apologized and hung up, but that didn’t discourage the alcoholic from trying again and again. But this time was going to be different.

“I’ll be right down,” you find yourself saying. You aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s because the students love him despite his shortcomings. Maybe it’s because you had been thinking about him only moments ago, remembering him in too much detail. Maybe you just want an excuse to leave all the work that had been burdened to you for a minute. Whatever the reason is, you pick up your purse and leave Signal Academy.

You’re in your car on the way when it hits you. It’s the middle of the day and you are going to a bar to pick up a fellow teacher. A teacher you are currently covering for. And he is trashed already. Anger wells up inside of you. What right did he have to abandon his job, his students, and act like this? What had happened to him that made him this way? Wait, why are you interested?

You have more questions than answers when you finally pull up to the bar. And there he is, sitting beside the entrance, head bent to the side at an awkward angle. You sigh and get out, praying that he isn’t passed out; you didn’t want to have to deal with heaving this man into your car. Thankfully, he smiles when you approach him.

“Knew you’d show up if I kept on,” he says. His voice is like gravel in the best way, and you want him to keep talking, even if his words are slurred.

“Where do you want me to take you?” you ask matter-of-factly.

“My place, yours…wherever you want.” He winks at you. You roll your eyes and extend a hand to help him up. He takes it, and you note how his skin is rough and calloused. He had probably been fighting Grimm his whole life. The odds were good he’d lost someone. God, how could you have been so judgmental? It still begged the question, was he fit to teach?

He staggers over to the door, using you for support. You can tell that he’s acting a little more drunk that he probably is, but go along with it. Once you have him secured, you circle around to the driver’s side. You take a long look at your passenger and he stares right back at you. At least his clothes are in better shape, but he still looks a little too rugged with his stubble and messy hair. You ask him where he lives and he rattles off an address. You would have to hurry if you wanted to make it back to school today. There aren’t any more classes, but you’re determined to finish Qrow’s long abandoned paperwork before tomorrow. You start driving, already making a list of things to do when you get back to Signal.

“Hey, (y/n), I’m talking to you!” Qrow snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn your attention to him. “Are you this rude to everyone, or am I just special?”

“Excuse you, I am not rude,” you defend. “I am a very nice person.” He snorts a laugh.

“This is the second time I’ve spoken to you face to face and both times you have ignored me.”

“I didn’t ignore you last time,” you say, the same memory surfacing for the second time today. “I introduced myself, politely, and moved on to meet other people.”

“Please,” he scoffs. His arms cross his broad chest and he slouches down in his seat. “I hadn’t felt that rejected since I was trying to find a date for a dance at Beacon. Not that I ever had a problem getting a date, mind you.” You can’t help feeling a little guilty. He’s right. You had brushed him off blatantly that day. It was a little mean. He places his elbow on the arm rest and leans across to you. Oddly enough, you can’t smell the drinks he’d had. He actually smells kind of nice. Was he wearing cologne?

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” You say to continue the conversation. You were afraid of what might happen if you looked into those dull red eyes of his for too long. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” You jerk the car into a parking spot in front of a stone building and turn off the ignition.

“For covering you when you decide to skip work all the time, for coming to pick up your drunk ass during my lunch break, and for dropping you off at your house.” You had finally snapped, putting all the venom you could muster into your sentence, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of appearing remorseful, Qrow gifts you with a crooked smile.

“You’re crazy about me,” he says quietly. You can’t believe the nerve of this man! What is he even thinking? You hate him. You loath him. You…are getting drawn in. He’s watching you with the most serious expression you’d ever seen on his face. And he is so close that his breathing sends strands of your hair dancing around your face. Sure, you can smell the whiskey, but it doesn’t repulse you like it should because it’s mixed with something else, something very…Qrow. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“You should go inside. Sleep it off, Qrow.” He doesn’t make a move to do so, and you don’t move to make him, either. You feel the space between you closing slowly, but you are absolutely hypnotized by Qrow Branwen. Is it bad if you don’t mind? He closes the distance in one swift motion. His mouth seals over yours softly and you press into the kiss. You hear your Scroll’s alarm sounding off somewhere in the background, but it isn’t a priority.

You reach your hands up to run them through his spiky hair, brushing the bangs from his forehead while tilting your head for a better angle. He takes this as permission to deepen the kiss. One of his hands holds the back of your neck, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your cheek bone. It’s a slow, lingering, sweet kiss, not at all what you would have thought Qrow’s kisses would be like.

The two of you are pressed desperately close together, as much as you can with the armrest between you. Qrow’s hand drifts from your face down to your collarbone and threatens to go further. That’s when your stupid senses kick in and you pull away. Qrow lets out a low whine at the sudden loss of contact. How had you even ended up here? 

“I need to get back to work,” you say. You’re already half an hour late as it was. Then again…

“Friday afternoons are always open,” Qrow finishes your thought.

“Because you don’t do your job the right way,” you point out. “Those are supposed to be used as planning hours.” Even still, you’re tempted by his implication.

“I think we could put those ‘planning hours’ to better use, don’t you, sweetheart?” He glances up at his house in an obvious manner. He reaches up and brushes the back of his hand down the side of your face. You feel the hot blush creeping up your neck and nod. Forget tempted, you’re all in. He smiles and gets out of the car, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll be right behind him. He knew from the moment you met, you wouldn’t be able to resist him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know your thoughts in the comments!


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